


Third Date Syndrome

by BookishTea



Series: Molliarty [13]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Awkward Dates, Bittersweet, Emotional Manipulation, F/M, First Meetings, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Late Night Conversations, Loneliness, Romantic Fluff, molliarty - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-10
Updated: 2018-09-05
Packaged: 2019-06-23 16:21:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15610221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BookishTea/pseuds/BookishTea
Summary: Long bouts of silence and awkwardness on first dates are inevitable, and for the hundredth time Molly wished she was exempted from it.





	1. First Meetings

_March 25th_

 

She hadn't been sure what she had watched, after a while rom-coms' does that to you, blur together into a sappy mess. And after hours of being glued to her couch and eating all of the sugary treats in her flat, Molly knew something had to change. She had to change...

"Christ," she sighed, forcing herself to sit up from her laying position on the couch. Toby had obviously had become fed up with her noisy sobbing, and had fled to the safety that was her bedroom. Squinting through bloodshot eyes, offhandedly Molly scrubbed at her swollen face with the back of her hand before she finally stood up. Even if she just binge watched the entirety of her embarrassingly trashy movie collection, she at least had enough dignity to clean up after herself.

The DVDs were returned to their drawer, the pillows that had fallen onto the floor were tossed back onto the couch. And lastly, she guilty cleaned up her empty wine glass and chocolate wrappers. Taking the minute to put the glass in the dishwasher, and the trash in the bin, Molly wordlessly blamed her stumbling on her eyes instead of on the cheap wine. She sighed, leaning into one of her counters as she stared blankly at her surroundings. While it was finally clean, it was also quiet. For most days Molly didn't mind that, most days...

There wasn't much to hear, aside from the muffled sound of the city, cars whizzing by and the rain lightly pelting her window. Even though spring had barely made itself known, Molly leaned over her sink and unlatched the window, giving the cool wind a wide enough entry to seep into her home. Immediately she shivered at the temperature change, and although she absently rubbed at the goosebumps covering her arms, she made no move to close it. Caught in this strange moment, on the verge of falling asleep, but also very much awake, it came to no surprise the unwanted thoughts sneaking up on her. The disappointment tempered by anger, and worst of all, that silly hopefulness.

Despite everything, she still felt it, that want for Sherlock to see her as someone else other than some skittish girl he could flirt with until she gave him access to her mortuary. Technically, it wasn't her's, it was the hospitals, but still... It felt as if she was baring everything, and while he took everything in stride, Sherlock never gave anything back. And at first that had been okay, but now... Now it had become draining. 

She frowned. It was troubling how her chest felt both empty and heavy. Molly closed the window, making sure to lock it before she headed off to bed. Turning off the lights behind her, she was more than thankful for Meena convincing her to fulfill her destiny of becoming a spinster and adopting Toby. Stretched out, he warmed the bed like he was a heater instead of a cat. Pulling the sheets over so it covered them both, Molly hung off the side to turn the lamp off before she could settle in.

Even with the clear decision to go to sleep, she started to think about _him_ again. Particularly the post she made on her blog after he left her morgue, curly hair bouncing and Belstaff TM dramatically swishing behind him. Molly buried her face into her blanket, fingers curling as she thought about people reading it, especially one's who hadn't met him before. It was already a big deal for Sherlock to become friends with John, she didn't want to contribute to the belief that he was anything less than a good man. A bit of a prick sometimes? Yes - but there was plenty still good about him. 

Molly turned over, huffing. She reassured herself that it was a useless fear, no one reads her blog anyways. 

* * *

 

_The next day_

 

It was official Margaret Hooper was _fucked_. It was all done, all of it. All of the years at medical school, the debt she accumulated for her degrees, it was finally going down the drain. Not only had someone read her ridiculous kitten themed blog, but this person commented on it, had even wanted to 'meet her'. That didn't happen, Molly didn't have coffee casually with strangers. She was more of the my-best-friend-set-me-up-on-this-blind-date kind of girl, she was a master at those... At creeping out her dates with her equally bizarre job and sense of humour. (Meena had long since made it a rule to not mention anything corpse related, even if it was a clever pun.)

But now there was an actual individual that wanted to sit down with her in the canteen, and talk. Molly bit her bottom lip, keeping her pace brisk as she walked down the twisting corridor. _He couldn't be a murder, right?_ She shook her head. Why would someone kill her? She wasn't particularly interesting, at least in her own opinion. And even if she did have some secret admirer she had no prior knowledge about, St. Barts' wasn't exactly the best place to commit a homicide. 

Yes, there were only a few people on the night shifts, especially around these floors, but there was security and surveillance cameras. If someone wanted her dead, the best bet was to grab her when she was commuting home, drag her into some desolate alley and...

Molly shook her head, pausing before the canteen's set of doors. "Calm down," she hissed to herself. "You're not going to die, you're having coffee with a nice man. A man who complimented your nose, said it was cute! Murderers don't do that." She broke off, deciding not to dwell on whether that was true or not as she pushed a door open and slipped inside.  

Immediately she stuffed her hands into her lab coat's pockets, scanning the large room for her mystery man. It wasn't hard to find him, there wasn't anyone aside from a person by the coffee machine. With a nervous exhale, she squashed her anxiety down and crossed the room, calling out "E-excuse me?"

Back to her, the not much taller man turned around with a surprised but pleased smile. "O-oh, hello! You came."

"I did," Molly chuckled awkwardly, stopping right in front of him. "I'm, um, I'm Molly Hooper." She withdrew a hand and held it out. He glanced down at it, looking up with a bright grin as he took it.

"I know, I'm Jim." 

"Er- right, well, it's nice to finally meet you." They stood there for a few drawn out seconds, shaking hands. Eventually they let go of each other, and Molly couldn't help but notice how warm his hand had been. For someone who became cold easily, it made her skin tingle. 

"It's cuter up close."

She lifted her head up, "Sorry?" Molly watched as he quickly looked away, chest squeezing as his cheeks became flushed. It was utterly adorable. 

Jim cleared his throat loudly before clarifying, "Your nose. I've only seen glimpses of it, and that didn't do it justice."

"We... Have we met before?" 

He shrugged, "Not officially. I only occasionally get to look up from a desk, or under it." His smile dipped at her confusion, waving his hands in front of him as he hurried to explain himself. "I'm not a weirdo or anything, I work in the IT department, so..." Defeated, Jim dropped his hands, saying softly, "Sorry, I really mucked this up. I'm shite at introductions."

Feeling awful, Molly shook her head. "No, you aren't. I understand what you meant, I'm..." She broke off, chewing on her bottom lip as she whispered, "I'm bad at this too." She glanced away from him before she decided to throw caution to the wind, "Do... Do you want to have that cup of coffee now?"

"That, sounds lovely."

 

Squished in together by the counter, they made their own respective cups. Ever so often there would be a pause, neither wanting to be the first to use the cream and sugar. For the most part Jim wasn't the kind of guy she was used to - that she went on blind dates with at the local pub. A bit clumsy and shy, yes, but from their short conversation, it was apparent that he was kind and a great listener.

As they carried their drinks to a table in the middle of the canteen, Molly discretely pinched herself. The pain was a reminder that she wasn't sleeping now, that she hadn't imagined him, a perfect example of the man she'd been waiting for. The goofy and lovable romantic interest in her romance novels. Molly lightly placed her mug down, hurrying to take her seat, still smiling from Jim's silly joke he had mumbled seconds before.

"I wonder," she started around a laugh, "why this took so long?" Jim peered up at her, sipping his coffee. At his brows knitting together, Molly went on to say, "Why it took us so long to finally meet. We must of passed each other in the halls, haven't we?"

Putting his mug down, Jim shrugged, "Maybe. I don't really see much of the hospital outside of my department."

"But you saw me?"

"Yeah, a... A couple of weeks ago."

"A couple... Why did you say hello earlier?" She leaned forward, fighting a grin as she watched Jim become red. 

"Well..." Flustered, he quickly coughed into a closed fist. "I had to plan it." 

 _Plan it?_   Molly bit her bottom lip. She didn't need to say the question aloud, already he was elaborating. 

"I-I'm not the most confident guy around, so... I needed some time to work up the courage to say hello. And then I came across your blog, and since it was online... It felt easier, you know?"

Molly was completely genuine when she said, "I'm glad that you did, that must of have taken a lot of courage. I... I just wish you didn't have to read that  _drivel_."

"It wasn't that bad."

"Are you kidding me?! It's awful!"

"Not to me it wasn't..."

A silence rose up between them, both quickly looking away from one another. Once again, she felt herself smiling, blaming the sudden wave of warmth she felt on the hotness of the glass in her hands. She was beginning to like him, a lot. The thought of that was terrifying, but for once Molly didn't want to turn away from that fear. No, she wanted to embrace it, and maybe Jim as well. 


	2. The Second Date

_March 29th_

 

They met up after their respective shifts, calling the meal they had together, a late lunch. Bundled up against the chilly weather, Molly walked along the sidewalk with Jim, hands nearly touching but not quite. She was pleased she still felt that anxious, butterfly feeling when they met up again. A part of her was worried that the first time had been a fluke, that it would disappear. It didn't.

She glanced up, smiling softly when he led her into a small corner cafe. Breathing in the delicious scent of pastries, and fresh coffee, they sat down in a little booth. Far enough from the other guests, but not enough that their isolation was nerve-wracking. As she slipped her coat off, she couldn't help but peer at him.

Admittedly, Jim struck her as plain at a first glance. But the more they spent time together, she realized there was a sweetness to him that was calming - it was a pleasant difference from dealing with Sherlock. A little boring, yes, but still nice. This was a person she could see herself falling for, if she hadn't done so already.

Jim flashed her a smile, mumbling "Thank you" when a waitress came to their table. He handed her a laminated menu, already scanning the items on his. "What would you like to drink?"

Molly hummed, "Probably a coffee. Hopefully it'll be better than the canteen." Her lips twitched at Jim's light laugh, it was mainly polite, but still charming. 

"Not much of a task, is it?" He set the menu down, resting his head on the palm of his hand. "So, Molls. Can I call you Molls?" Delighted by her nod, he went on, "What can you tell me about your work?"

"My work?"

"Do you enjoy it?"

"Um..." Molly chewed on her bottom lip. She knew she and Meena had that rule about corpses, but in this case, was it okay? He did, after all, ask. And not to mention, he was more than aware that she worked at the morgue - had even appeared to be fine with the notion. Already he was doing a lot better than most blokes she's dated. "I..." Was it okay to be honest? After mulling it over for a second, she figured, yes, yes it is. "I enjoy it, I find it therapeutic work."

Strangely enough, Jim didn't seem scared off by her choice of words. The tone in which he repeated, "Therapeutic?" was intrigued. 

Encouraged by the response, Molly hastily nodded. "You might have to spend some extra time on a suspicious death, but it's all very routine."

"Can't that get boring?"

"I wouldn't call it that. Maybe lonely, the pathology field isn't a very social one - and I don't think I'd like it if it were. That would be awful, wouldn't it? If the corpses started talking back?" She gave an awkward laugh.

"Does that happen often?"

She rose a brow, "Talking corpses?"

Jim waved the inquiry off with a laugh, "No, don't be silly. I meant talking to the dead bodies."

"Oh, um..." Out of everything, she didn't think that would be the thing he'd really focus on. She added surprisingly observant to her list of traits for him, right above, cute sneezes. "Like I said before, it can be a little... lonely." Jim's smile tempered down, exchanging it for a sage expression.

"I think IT is similar in that respect. You do a lot of work by yourself, and most days, that's fine, but..."

"Sometimes," she added for him, "it can be a bit much."

A smile brightened Jim's face, "I think we have a lot more in common than we thought, Dr. Hooper." She felt her own smile flutter across her lips, mirroring the sensation in her chest. 

"It looks like it." She chewed on her bottom lip, watching as he gingerly slid a hand across the table, and grabbed her's. His hold was loose, so that she could pull away if she wanted, and he was rubbing his thumb lightly against her knuckles.

* * *

 

After they finished their lunch/supper, Jim had been so kind as to drop her off at her flat. And sitting in that passenger seat, something remarkable happened. Summoning all of the courage in her petite person, Molly invited him inside. Stranger yet, he said _yes_.

Unlocking the front door, Molly was a thing of nerves, fumbling with the keys for a solid two minutes before she could the bloody door opened. As soon as she did, she showed him in, and excused, well, everything.

"Sorry about," she gestured vaguely. 

"Don't be," Jim laughed, slipped his shoes off, and taking in her tiny flat. "It's..." He paused, eyeing a stuffed mouse on an even smaller skateboard, "Adorable."

Molly snorted, taking her coat off, and then Jim's to be hung in the closet. "That's putting it nicely." Jim turned back to face her.

"I mean it! It isn't as cute as that nose of your's..." He grinned at her laugh. "But I still like it."

"Well..." She stood in the entry way for a moment, "Feel free to look around, I'm just going to quickly have a shower. Not a big fan of stinking the place up with decomp. Is that okay?" Smiling softly at the thumbs up she received, Molly slipped past him, and padded down the hall to the bathroom.

 

Jim waited until he heard the door close and lock before he began his exploration, haughtily sniffing at the decor. It looked like Dr. Hooper robbed a grandmother, one whose vision and fashion sense was severely impaired. The bookshelves were a tad bad better, if not amusing. As expected, there were several romance novels - though she stuffed those further in the back (ashamed, maybe?). But what did surprise him, was the several texts regarded violent death. If he didn't know she was a pathologist, he might think she was planning a murder - or at least becoming a groupie for a serial killer.

He paused by a particular shelf, staring at a sealed jar. Raising a brow, he picked it up, and studied it in the light. There was a paper label stuck to the outside, which read: _Mr. Jeremy Fisher._ Jim rose a brow. When he did his research on Molly, there were notes on her being clumsy and timid - all of which he saw firsthand; but nothing on her keeping the dissection she did as a child. The uneven cuts revealed as much. But still, it was rather refreshingly sentimental to keep a dead frog in a jar, its body pinned back to bare its guts.

With a glance over his shoulder, he took the small glass, and pocketed it into the coat hanging in the closet. Just as he closed the door, he could hear the water turn off. He retraced his steps back to the living room, just in time to see the bathroom door swing open, and steam spill out in humid waves. 

Molly walked out, wrapped in a towel, and dripping wet. Jim barely tilted his head to the side, sniffing the fragrant air. Cherries and vanilla. The word, _delicious_ , crossed his mind. Finally noticing his staring, Molly squeaked loudly, flushing as she scurried to her bedroom. Jim grinned, listening as the door slammed shut. Tonight was going to be far more interesting than he hoped.

* * *

 

It was three hours later, and Jim's arm was trapped under a sleeping Molly. They had spent the last two hours and a half watching Glee, but thirty minutes into another episode, and Molly's eyes began to flutter close. By the time the credits were rolling, there was only Jim and Toby awake. However, the cat seemed to be following his owner's footsteps while bathing in the setting sun's light. Smiling fondly, Jim reached out and ran his fingers through his company's fur. Loving the purrs it caused. He turned back to Molly, tracing her sleeping face with his eyes.

Ever so slowly, he leaned down. Brushing his nose against her jaw, he breathed deeply. The smell of decomp lingered just underneath the surface of the sweetness; he shuddered. Pulling away, he noisily swallowed, and freed his arm. Moving her so she'd lay fully on the couch, and not in an uncomfortable position, he fetched a quilt from the bedroom and draped it over her. Slipping his shoes on, he shrugged into his coat, and unlocked the front door.

He paused in the door frame, looking over at her. In the deep confines of his dark heart, he felt something. A gentle pattering, incredibly easy to miss. He felt it all the same, that curious feeling as he stared at her. The door closed behind him.


	3. The Third Date

_March 30th_

 

They had lunch again, but this time at the canteen. But hey, the company made up for the less than stellar food quality. He'd been nice enough to pay, although it wasn't necessary. Afterwards, just before their breaks ended, Molly managed to ask him if he wanted to come over again - of course, to watch more Glee, and assist her with that pesky spellcheck problem.

He'd been in the middle of tossing their trash in the bin, so when he looked up at her, he blinked owlishly. Taking a deep breath, she asked him again, but in a louder voice. There was a moment there, where she was overcome with the fear that he didn't like her anymore - or that he never did. That he only went to their last date because he was a nice man, that he felt bad for her. And truthfully, he found her boring and awkward, and... Oh God, he hated her, didn't he? H-

"That sounds lovely, Molls." Jim tilted his head, unaware of the irrational turmoil he just put an end to. "Do you mind..." He glanced away, the tips of his ears turning red. "Can I walk you back?"

Immediately Molly bit her bottom lip, trying to stifle her sudden giggles. _Christ, he's nervous like a schoolboy._ She nodded. 

Jim's smile stretched, "Great. Just give me a second to toss this out." 

She waited for him in the hallway, fumbling with the buttons to her cardigan as she leaned against a wall. When he finally strolled through the doors, Molly felt a smile blossom onto her face. He returned that expression, and playfully bumped his shoulder into her's. She smiled at him, warming with the unnecessary contact. 

The pair slowly walked down the corridor, neither wanting this precious time together to end. They tried to drag it out further, voices hushed as they talked - really a pointless conversation about nothing, but to Molly, it felt all the more deeper. Perhaps it was because she was falling, with nothing to stop her in sight, and she didn't mind that. Didn't mind falling in love if it was with him.

When they came to the morgue door, both lingering in front of it, Jim suddenly glanced over his shoulder. For a second she was confused, following what he'd been staring at. The halls were empty, so the only thing he could be looking up at was the security camera mounted on the ceiling. 

Her brows furrowed, wondering what he could possibly be thinking about, but then... But then, he leaned down, and kissed her.

Against his lips she gave a startled sound, taking a second to reach up to hold his shoulder. One of his hands slid up to hold the side of her head, thumb pressing into her jaw as he deepened the kiss. Just as Molly's eyes began to flutter, he pulled away, breath shaky as he peered at her. 

They both apologized. Bursting into laughter, they shifted their weight, neither wanting to leave - to leave this. Jim was the first to speak again, rubbing the back of his neck as he glanced away to the hallway, grinning. "I best be leaving."

"Oh! Um... Goodbye then. Do..." Molly stuffed her hands into her pockets, trying to hide the tremble of her fingers. The giddiness she felt. "Do you still want to come over tonight?"

He looked back at her, purred "Of course" which made her shiver. "I'll call you later." She nodded. Shooting her a smile, Jim paused as if he was deliberating something. Before she could ask what that was, he was leaning down, and pressing a gentle kiss to her cheek. He pulled away, holding her gaze before he turned and strolled down the corridor. Molly withdrew a hand, gingerly touching the spot his lips had been.

When he was out of sight, she slipped inside the morgue and hummed a cheerful tune under her breath. Later that night, she would enforce the third date rule. One that she never thought she'd do - but maybe that was because very few men wanted to apparently warm her bed. When nighttime had curtained the sky, and the weight of his arm was still thrown over her torso, Molly buried her smile into her pillow. 

It did nothing, if not encourage the belief that Jim might be the one. He wasn't brilliant like Sherlock, but he was kind and gentle. And with every moment they spent together, gradually Jim was chipping away at the pedestal Sherlock was standing on. She sighed softly, reaching up and curling her arm around Jim's. His breathing in her ear, Molly drifted to sleep.

* * *

 

April 1st, commonly known as, Fool's Day. And rightfully so, as there isn't a bigger idiot than she. Of course she didn't think anything was wrong, hadn't the faintest reason to think that way - or maybe she just didn't want to look... Either way, she had no idea what was going to happen when she talked to Jim that morning. Seated at the breakfast table, she mentioned Sherlock casually, cutting into the sausage Jim had cooked up.

"Sherlock?" He had mumbled, glancing up from his coffee. "Isn't he that detective bloke?"

"That's the one." For obvious reasons, she didn't mention that she'd pined after that man for _years._ And despite dating someone else, she still felt a ridiculous amount of attraction towards him. "I needed advice for one of his hidden message things, remember?"

Jim hummed under his breath, raising his mug to his lips, but then he paused. Peering at her over the rim, he asked, "I thought he was a friend of your's?"

"...He is..." She picked up her toast, "Well, I think we're friends."

"Do you think I can meet him?"

Her head snapped up to stare at him, "What?"

"Can I meet Sherlock?"

"Er-"

"Or would you rather I didn't?"

"No, I-" Molly shook her head. She didn't want him to think there was something going on between her and Sherlock. That might explain why she said, "Okay, stop by around noon."

 

He kept to his word, which ultimately led to everything going down the shitter. At the time she'd been excited, that she could show Sherlock that at least to some, she was desirable. That she wasn't as pathetic as he seemed to think she was. After Jim left, Sherlock in his ever so thoughtful way, told her the truth.

At first she took it as a prank, that this was an elaborate plan. When she realized it wasn't, everything she'd built with Jim crumbled away. Of course, she'd been furious, stormed away and after she stopped crying, she confronted Jim about his sexuality. His shock had quickly been overcome with his own anger - and they fought and yelled until neither could bear the other's presence. 

Toby and a tub of ice cream was her comfort that night - and the next. That week had passed by in a strange blur, overshadowed by her worry when she found out Jim was missing. That she couldn't get a hold of him. She fought with the idea of going to the station, and putting in a missing person. It was awful, the thought that he had hurt himself, that he was in pain somewhere. And when Greg showed up on her doorstep, face ashen, all of her worse fears had been confirmed. That Jim was dead. 

She barely had enough strength in her legs to move to the side, to let the inspector in. 

They moved to the living room, both awkwardly sitting across one another. And in so many words he told her she wasn't too far off, that Jim from IT - the persona was dead. But Jim Moriarty, the criminal mastermind was very much alive. In those dumbfounded hours, she told Greg all she knew of her... of the person she'd been on a couple of dates with. It wasn't a lot. Jim had been more of a listener than a talker, an attribute she thought was charming at the time. And she figured Greg didn't want to know how Jim took his coffee, or how long he lasted in her bed.

After Greg finished interviewing her, Molly had mentioned the St. Barts tapes, and whether there was anything on them. He'd shown her a curious expression of reluctance, and when she pressed, he told her that all had been erased but one. Sherlock said it was just to taunt them, that Moriarty had flaunted his disguise under their noses. That tape, the one Greg didn't want to mention, was Jim kissing her. How he looked directly at the camera before and after, his grin victorious. 

It wasn't long after the inspector left before she broke down, feeling as though her soul had been split in two.

* * *

 

It was a while before that pain eased up, that those memories were bitter, but not enough to break her. For the most part, she kept to herself, always busy so that she didn't have time to suffer. Jim from IT was regarded like a fever dream, it had happened, but the details were groggy. 

Months later, that feeling resurfaced. She had been going through her flat, sorting things to donate to the local charity run store. In the back of her closet, she found one of his shirts. At the time she thought it was sweet, the little trick of leaving things behind just so he could come back. But now... Molly noisily swallowed, staring at the t-shirt. Her brows furrowed, and a searing anger she never knew she could experience, rose up. She reached over to the side, grabbing a bag she'd been using for trash. She was about to stuff it in, when she faltered.

It might have been fake to him, but to Molly it was real - the emotions she felt weren't a facade she was playing. Heartbeat hammering in her ears, she lowered her face to the fabric of the shirt, and breathed in. Even after all of this time, it still smelt like him. A cheap cologne from a corner store that she didn't like by itself, but on him it smelt fantastic. She opened her mouth, and screamed until her voice was hoarse.

 

_Somewhere in the world_

 

Muffling a yawn behind his hand, Jim pressed play again. In his free hand, he absently spun a jar on the wood of his desk. It was the millionth time he'd watched this scene, but for whatever reason he kept coming back to it. He kept coming back to her, the smile she wore when they pulled away from one another. The minute long video ended, and without thinking, he pressed play again.


End file.
